![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Okay, so I'm sitting at my desk, BORED OUT OF MY FUCKING SKULL, because there is nothing to do.
Yes, that's right. NOTHING to do. I can't even sort cards (that good ol' standby) because the person who tells me what cabinet the cards are in for THIS release is in a meeting with our overseas vendor.
I mean, fuck's sake, I cleaned out my desk. I put the four sets of cards I could into binders - this is not because I have cardsets in EVERY DRAWER of my desk, but because we only had four binders big enough to do JACK SHIT with. But let me go back to that key point. I CLEANED OUT MY DESK. This is, as always, an activity worthy of the effort that went in to raising the Titanic. And it isn't even MY desk. I just sit here! The only thing this desk has of MINE in it is a jar of hand lotion, some emergency food, and a fake smile on a stick.
Cleaning out my desk at home would take a couple hours and some good reassurance that I really do only need my latest paystub for tax purposes. Having said that, the day of reckoning is coming. I hate my desk. It's a mess. It would be helped if I had either a tower computer so I could put it in the cabinet for the tower or a functioning laptop so that I didn't have both laptop and monitor. If it weren't for the fact that I am basically insane, I'd buy a new computer.
Think I'll find out why I didn't get paid last week and whether I will get paid this week, pay my car payment, look online for a shirt for the reunion, and write.
On the reunion front, a brief note. I have clothes now that will go far to enhancing the ideas I wish to present. But I am curious to know WHY, WHY GOD WHY, it is impossible (and I MEAN impossible) to find a plain white shirt with cap sleeves, long enough to tuck in and without a godawful neckline that shows off my entire, um, ran out of grammar there, pair of breasts, how's that for a bad sentence? Or burgundy. I LIKE burgundy! But it has to be something that contrasts with black because I am wearing jeans and a black jacket and want to wear my black braces as WELL, and I want it to show off my tattoos. And it can't be true red even though I like true red because I feel like the american flag when I wear red and blue.
So why the fuck is everything in the stores (this is, I assume, AFTER fall reset) STILL TURQUOISE AND CORAL? I hate pink, I hate it with the passion of a thousand firey suns, and I hate turquoise EVEN MORE. Also, both colours are GHASTLY on me. And it is not helped by the fact that I HATE THEM. I wear lots of colours that are ghastly on me, but I LIKE them.
What the fuck happened to olive drab green? Am I reduced to buying a Wicked tanktop from Hot Topic (or possibly Torrid, I don't remember) and wearing a white button down over the top? Every store I walk into tells me that LAYERING IS THE "NOW" LOOK, after all. But, see, BITCHES, I don't LAYER like you want me to.
MY idea of layers: Green tank top, white shirt, black hoodie vest, black suit jacket. White tshirt, green hoodie, black and blue pirate coat. Jeans and boots, so I don't violate public decency laws. And this is for when BUTTERFLIES DON'T DIE IN THE HEAT.
THEIR idea of layers: Spaghetti strap camisole in OBNOXIOUS colours, striped button down shirt in corresponding colours, maybe a pointelle sweater over all of it. (IN AUGUST, I ASK YOU, JESUS FUCK.) LACEY, crappy-satin camisole in SHINY obnoxious colours, preferably with fake jewels right between the breasts, same button down, same pointelle sweater.
Dear Buyers: Not everyone in the world, even at the stores I shop in, for I am not STUPID, wears an A-cup. In fact, it could be argued that spaghetti-strap camisoles is the stupidest fashion decision you've made since you stopped carrying muumuus, since you are Lane Bryant, and I'm pretty sure that the HAWT A-CUP GIRLZ are shopping at The Limited. Or Zumiez. Or Rage. Or wherever the fuck HAWT A-CUP GIRLZ go to die. But since I'm sure you're not getting the point, let's get a little more in-depth here.
The garment I most like, and I don't want to hear about how it's pandering to male/designer/fascist patriarchy/prudes/Mrs. Grundy/WHOEVER, is my bra. I don't like it because it looks pretty (women who wear a DD ONLY like black, white, and "flesh" colour, OF COURSE, and SHOULD NOT BE encouraged in flaunting their buxomness by giving them a bra in a brand I can cope with (NOT LB's house brand) that is, say, green. Or blue. Or red. OR PATTERNED OMG I AM A WHORE.) nor because it is a comfortable garment per se. I like it for one reason.
It keeps my breasts from hanging down and IMPEDING ME WHEN I WALK because I am TRIPPING ON THEM.
I like my bra, in short, NOT because it is something I care to show off, but because it is EFFECTIVE. A shirt is a shirt is a shirt, and assuming that you can stand what you are looking at (or not) it presumably will do what it is supposed to do, which is "cover all inappropriate areas of human anatomy because you don't live in fucking Tahiti omg".* ALL shirts are effective at this task. ONLY SOME bras will support my breasts in a way that I LIKE.
So, yes, I like a garment that is fundamentally restrictive. BITE ME.
Nonetheless. I prefer to show off a shirt rather than my bra. But this is why shirt-shopping is such a pain in the arse. ALL shirts do the same thing, but they do not look the same. All bras pretty much look the same, but they do not do the same. Since I am showing off my shirt, I care how it looks. My bras take more shopping to achieve only in the event of a catastrophic cancellation of a line I like. (This is akin to, the moment you find a pad/tampon you like, how the manufacturers stop carrying THAT ONE AND THAT ONE ONLY.) I spend more time shopping for shirts BECAUSE YOU CHANGE THEM ALL THE TIME, YOU WHORES.
Wait, tangent. Right, back on track, deep breath.
RIGHT. So, given that I wear a 40DD, and that this is AFTER a surgical reduction, kthnxdie, the straps of said bra are, on average, half an inch wide. (I don't care to verify this by sticking a ruler in my shirt, and a lot of you are male, so just trust me.) Spaghetti straps...are not. While it might look "cute" and "funky" and "oh so now" to have your spaghetti bra strap showing with your spaghetti camisole strap (if you ever want to have fun, type 'spaghetti' a lot), it does not when one of these garments is not like the other and is a support garment.
DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BUILT-IN BRAS OMG.
So, and I present this question to you, Lane Bryant buyers, WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARRY spaghetti strap camisoles? Am I not supposed to want to take my shirt off? Am I supposed to DIE in the heat generated by holding a reunion in a South Seattle gokart PLEASURE DOME that is undoubtedly either 'not airconditioned' or 'airconditioned by one ac unit attempting to cool ten thousand cubic feet of space'?
I am not wearing one of your ungodly creations, nor am I giving up a bra for the pleasure of doing so. I cannot find a spaghetti strap bra that has any effectiveness (and I am NOT shelling out forty bucks for one ANYWAY, because I buy bras in NOVEMBER, thanks, that's my BUDGET, BITCHES) and I cannot, BECAUSE OF YOU, find a SHIRT with any effectiveness.
Look, what I want out of this experience is THE MOST BASIC SHIRT KNOWN TO MAN. FUCK you, FUCK your camisoles, and FUCK your embroidered lacy cute peasant shirts in SEE THRU white material. FUCK YOU ALL WITH A DEAD DOG'S COCK, that's what I say.
I AM NOT THE PROBLEM. I AM ABOUT TO BECOME YOUR PROBLEM, but I AM NOT THE CURRENT PROBLEM HERE. You are. Thank you SO much for continuing to pander to a group of women who, let's face it, the whole mall panders to.** Thank you for continuing to perpetuate stereotypes (IN A STORE THAT SUPPOSEDLY SUPPORTS 'PLUS-SIZE' FASHION) about size. Thank you for the stereotypes that a group of rational, sane, women talking together can dismiss as stupid, but can't get away from in a fucking DRESSING ROOM.
Oh, and this one's for free: I HATE BEING CALLED PLUS-SIZE. I wear an 18 shirt (for tight) or XL+ for looser, a 24 Tall trouser, a 13M/12W (medium and wide, not men's and women's) shoe, and a 18-24 dress, depending on material and fit. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME CARMEN THE CIRCUS WHALE.
Here's a handy hint. Whatever you may say about Marilyn Monroe's dress size, she didn't wear a size two. In fact, if she really DID wear a twelve and it was a similar size as now, she'd be the lower end of plus-size and upper end of "normal" size.
And people wonder, genuinely wonder, why I hate shopping and ONLY do so under duress.
In the notable absence of the offer of an orgy with Norman Reedus, Nick Stahl, and Angelina Jolie, I'll just be bitchy now. I am even listening to Tom Waits without complaint. And I HATE Tom Waits.
*Club clothing is, of course, exempted from this guideline.
**I so totally don't want to hear from anyone who thinks that I've just slanged them off horribly by all my statements about tiny little women with tiny little breasts and how the mall loves them. I KNOW that the shopping/marketing system in this country hates everyone with ovaries. But the grass is ALWAYS greener OVER THE FUCKING FENCE.
Yes, that's right. NOTHING to do. I can't even sort cards (that good ol' standby) because the person who tells me what cabinet the cards are in for THIS release is in a meeting with our overseas vendor.
I mean, fuck's sake, I cleaned out my desk. I put the four sets of cards I could into binders - this is not because I have cardsets in EVERY DRAWER of my desk, but because we only had four binders big enough to do JACK SHIT with. But let me go back to that key point. I CLEANED OUT MY DESK. This is, as always, an activity worthy of the effort that went in to raising the Titanic. And it isn't even MY desk. I just sit here! The only thing this desk has of MINE in it is a jar of hand lotion, some emergency food, and a fake smile on a stick.
Cleaning out my desk at home would take a couple hours and some good reassurance that I really do only need my latest paystub for tax purposes. Having said that, the day of reckoning is coming. I hate my desk. It's a mess. It would be helped if I had either a tower computer so I could put it in the cabinet for the tower or a functioning laptop so that I didn't have both laptop and monitor. If it weren't for the fact that I am basically insane, I'd buy a new computer.
Think I'll find out why I didn't get paid last week and whether I will get paid this week, pay my car payment, look online for a shirt for the reunion, and write.
On the reunion front, a brief note. I have clothes now that will go far to enhancing the ideas I wish to present. But I am curious to know WHY, WHY GOD WHY, it is impossible (and I MEAN impossible) to find a plain white shirt with cap sleeves, long enough to tuck in and without a godawful neckline that shows off my entire, um, ran out of grammar there, pair of breasts, how's that for a bad sentence? Or burgundy. I LIKE burgundy! But it has to be something that contrasts with black because I am wearing jeans and a black jacket and want to wear my black braces as WELL, and I want it to show off my tattoos. And it can't be true red even though I like true red because I feel like the american flag when I wear red and blue.
So why the fuck is everything in the stores (this is, I assume, AFTER fall reset) STILL TURQUOISE AND CORAL? I hate pink, I hate it with the passion of a thousand firey suns, and I hate turquoise EVEN MORE. Also, both colours are GHASTLY on me. And it is not helped by the fact that I HATE THEM. I wear lots of colours that are ghastly on me, but I LIKE them.
What the fuck happened to olive drab green? Am I reduced to buying a Wicked tanktop from Hot Topic (or possibly Torrid, I don't remember) and wearing a white button down over the top? Every store I walk into tells me that LAYERING IS THE "NOW" LOOK, after all. But, see, BITCHES, I don't LAYER like you want me to.
MY idea of layers: Green tank top, white shirt, black hoodie vest, black suit jacket. White tshirt, green hoodie, black and blue pirate coat. Jeans and boots, so I don't violate public decency laws. And this is for when BUTTERFLIES DON'T DIE IN THE HEAT.
THEIR idea of layers: Spaghetti strap camisole in OBNOXIOUS colours, striped button down shirt in corresponding colours, maybe a pointelle sweater over all of it. (IN AUGUST, I ASK YOU, JESUS FUCK.) LACEY, crappy-satin camisole in SHINY obnoxious colours, preferably with fake jewels right between the breasts, same button down, same pointelle sweater.
Dear Buyers: Not everyone in the world, even at the stores I shop in, for I am not STUPID, wears an A-cup. In fact, it could be argued that spaghetti-strap camisoles is the stupidest fashion decision you've made since you stopped carrying muumuus, since you are Lane Bryant, and I'm pretty sure that the HAWT A-CUP GIRLZ are shopping at The Limited. Or Zumiez. Or Rage. Or wherever the fuck HAWT A-CUP GIRLZ go to die. But since I'm sure you're not getting the point, let's get a little more in-depth here.
The garment I most like, and I don't want to hear about how it's pandering to male/designer/fascist patriarchy/prudes/Mrs. Grundy/WHOEVER, is my bra. I don't like it because it looks pretty (women who wear a DD ONLY like black, white, and "flesh" colour, OF COURSE, and SHOULD NOT BE encouraged in flaunting their buxomness by giving them a bra in a brand I can cope with (NOT LB's house brand) that is, say, green. Or blue. Or red. OR PATTERNED OMG I AM A WHORE.) nor because it is a comfortable garment per se. I like it for one reason.
It keeps my breasts from hanging down and IMPEDING ME WHEN I WALK because I am TRIPPING ON THEM.
I like my bra, in short, NOT because it is something I care to show off, but because it is EFFECTIVE. A shirt is a shirt is a shirt, and assuming that you can stand what you are looking at (or not) it presumably will do what it is supposed to do, which is "cover all inappropriate areas of human anatomy because you don't live in fucking Tahiti omg".* ALL shirts are effective at this task. ONLY SOME bras will support my breasts in a way that I LIKE.
So, yes, I like a garment that is fundamentally restrictive. BITE ME.
Nonetheless. I prefer to show off a shirt rather than my bra. But this is why shirt-shopping is such a pain in the arse. ALL shirts do the same thing, but they do not look the same. All bras pretty much look the same, but they do not do the same. Since I am showing off my shirt, I care how it looks. My bras take more shopping to achieve only in the event of a catastrophic cancellation of a line I like. (This is akin to, the moment you find a pad/tampon you like, how the manufacturers stop carrying THAT ONE AND THAT ONE ONLY.) I spend more time shopping for shirts BECAUSE YOU CHANGE THEM ALL THE TIME, YOU WHORES.
Wait, tangent. Right, back on track, deep breath.
RIGHT. So, given that I wear a 40DD, and that this is AFTER a surgical reduction, kthnxdie, the straps of said bra are, on average, half an inch wide. (I don't care to verify this by sticking a ruler in my shirt, and a lot of you are male, so just trust me.) Spaghetti straps...are not. While it might look "cute" and "funky" and "oh so now" to have your spaghetti bra strap showing with your spaghetti camisole strap (if you ever want to have fun, type 'spaghetti' a lot), it does not when one of these garments is not like the other and is a support garment.
DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BUILT-IN BRAS OMG.
So, and I present this question to you, Lane Bryant buyers, WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKING CARRY spaghetti strap camisoles? Am I not supposed to want to take my shirt off? Am I supposed to DIE in the heat generated by holding a reunion in a South Seattle gokart PLEASURE DOME that is undoubtedly either 'not airconditioned' or 'airconditioned by one ac unit attempting to cool ten thousand cubic feet of space'?
I am not wearing one of your ungodly creations, nor am I giving up a bra for the pleasure of doing so. I cannot find a spaghetti strap bra that has any effectiveness (and I am NOT shelling out forty bucks for one ANYWAY, because I buy bras in NOVEMBER, thanks, that's my BUDGET, BITCHES) and I cannot, BECAUSE OF YOU, find a SHIRT with any effectiveness.
Look, what I want out of this experience is THE MOST BASIC SHIRT KNOWN TO MAN. FUCK you, FUCK your camisoles, and FUCK your embroidered lacy cute peasant shirts in SEE THRU white material. FUCK YOU ALL WITH A DEAD DOG'S COCK, that's what I say.
I AM NOT THE PROBLEM. I AM ABOUT TO BECOME YOUR PROBLEM, but I AM NOT THE CURRENT PROBLEM HERE. You are. Thank you SO much for continuing to pander to a group of women who, let's face it, the whole mall panders to.** Thank you for continuing to perpetuate stereotypes (IN A STORE THAT SUPPOSEDLY SUPPORTS 'PLUS-SIZE' FASHION) about size. Thank you for the stereotypes that a group of rational, sane, women talking together can dismiss as stupid, but can't get away from in a fucking DRESSING ROOM.
Oh, and this one's for free: I HATE BEING CALLED PLUS-SIZE. I wear an 18 shirt (for tight) or XL+ for looser, a 24 Tall trouser, a 13M/12W (medium and wide, not men's and women's) shoe, and a 18-24 dress, depending on material and fit. THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME CARMEN THE CIRCUS WHALE.
Here's a handy hint. Whatever you may say about Marilyn Monroe's dress size, she didn't wear a size two. In fact, if she really DID wear a twelve and it was a similar size as now, she'd be the lower end of plus-size and upper end of "normal" size.
And people wonder, genuinely wonder, why I hate shopping and ONLY do so under duress.
In the notable absence of the offer of an orgy with Norman Reedus, Nick Stahl, and Angelina Jolie, I'll just be bitchy now. I am even listening to Tom Waits without complaint. And I HATE Tom Waits.
*Club clothing is, of course, exempted from this guideline.
**I so totally don't want to hear from anyone who thinks that I've just slanged them off horribly by all my statements about tiny little women with tiny little breasts and how the mall loves them. I KNOW that the shopping/marketing system in this country hates everyone with ovaries. But the grass is ALWAYS greener OVER THE FUCKING FENCE.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
